


John Mitchell vs the REGISSÖR

by Lakritzwolf



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: IKEA, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:46:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4762142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/pseuds/Lakritzwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a href="http://gatheringfiki.tumblr.com/post/127826595685/summer-fandom-raffle-exchange-prompts-masterlist">Summer Raffle Fandom Exchange</a>  on tumblr<br/>Prompt 24: Ikea furniture build</p>
            </blockquote>





	John Mitchell vs the REGISSÖR

Mitchell was hardly able to suppress a growl of anger and frustration and dropped the instruction leaflet, or rather, threw it to the ground. “I hate this fucking, useless...”  
“Come on, keep your pants on, Mitch.” Anders looked up from where he was making coffee. “Take a fucking break, will you? You’re not getting anywhere when you start tossing screwdrivers around.”

Mitchell sat back with a huff. “Fuck that! How hard can it be! It’s a fucking bookshelf, for fuck’s sake!”  
“Yeah well, it’s a fucking IKEA bookshelf.”  
“Remind me again why I went to IKEA in the first place? You know how I feel about IKEA.”  
“I do, actually. Which is why I was so surprised when you asked me to give you a lift there. Special offer or not, Mitch, you knew this was gonna happen.”

“Shit.” Mitchell ran his hands through his hair, messing up his curls even more. “I mean, really, a bookshelf? Back in my days you just had some solid wood made by a carpenter and the stuff would keep forever!”  
“Just like you, hm?” Anders poured the coffee into two mugs. “Come on, Mitch, have a coffee.”  
“Fuck I will,” Mitchell said and picked up the Allen key and the screwdriver again. “I will not be made an ass of by a fucking piece of furniture!”  
“Mitch...” Anders was hard pressed not to laugh.  
“A fucking piece of furniture made of pressboard! It’s not even real wood!”

Anders gave up, sat down at the table with the two coffees and picked up one, watching Mitchell trying to sort through various boards and screws, while hiding his grin behind the rim of his mug.

“Here!” Mitchell thrust the leaflet into Anders’s general direction. “It says right here that the screw has to go into that hole and then it’s supposed to say click! But the screw doesn’t even fit properly!”  
Anders shrugged. “I can’t help you, mate. I don’t speak IKEA.”  
“Fuck!” Mitchell looked back and forth between his board and the instruction, his eyes growing darker and his brows lowering more and more. “It says here...” He took a deep breath. “Screw...” He picked up the screw. “Insert here...” He tried to slot the screw into the hole marked in the instruction leaflet, but it simply wouldn’t fit. It just fell out again. “FUCK!” 

Mitchell’s patience finally broke, or rather, exploded, and he cast the screw against the wall with such force that it ricocheted back, and Anders was just able to duck out of its trajectory by sheer luck. 

“Jesus Christ will you stop that, Mitch! This is getting hazardous!” Anders put the mug down and got up to hunt for the screw, then walked back to where Mitchell was fuming over the instruction and dropped the screw into Mitchell’s lap. “Want me to call Mike?”  
“Fuck you.”  
“I’d rather fuck you, but I think that’s not going to happen unless we manage to get this right.” He looked at the leaflet and picked up various parts to examine them. He held up one of the bookshelf’s legs. “That looks dangerous to me.” He looked pointedly at Mitchell.

Mitchell slowly looked up at him. 

Anders met his eyes, with the leg of the bookshelf in one hand and the instruction in the other. “I think health and safety regulations demand that vampires keep themselves away from long, thin objects of wood at all times.”  
“If you don’t shut the fuck up right now, Anders Johnson, I will nail you to the bedroom door by your balls and wait for you to fall off before I kick out your teeth and shove them up your arse.”  
Anders slowly put down the leg again with a slightly strained smile. 

“I tell you what,” Anders said after a moment. “Why don’t we...” He pointed first at him, then at Mitchell, “... have a cup of coffee, and then look at the fucking manual again and see if we can figure this out together?”  
“I thought you didn’t speak IKEA?”  
“No, I don’t, but I’m a smart guy who’s not prone to throw a fit when something doesn’t go his way in the first attempt.”

Mitchell gave him one of his gloriously dangerous smouldering stares, but finally got up with a huff. They drank their coffee in silence. 

“So let’s see.” Anders knelt down beside Mitchell and looked at the instruction and the various parts haphazardly strewn around. “Jesus, this is a mess.” 

He collected all the screws and other bits and pieces and laid them out in an orderly row. Then he picked up the two Allen keys and a thoughtful frown appeared on his face. He took the instruction again, looked back and forth between the diagram and the keys, and finally, began sorting through the screws.

“Will you break my fingers if I tell you I found the glitch?”  
Mitchell exhaled with a heavy huff of breath.  
“See...” Somewhat hesitantly, Anders held up the two Allen keys. “They’re different sizes.”  
“Yeah... I noticed.”  
“And...?”  
“That’s shitty, blowsy manufacturing, if you ask me.”  
“Wrong,” Anders replied and scooted a little away from Mitchell to be out of the immediate blast radius. “There’s two different sizes because there’s two different types of screws.”

Mitchell slowly crossed his arms. “Trasna ort féin, you smart arse.”  
Anders looked up again with raised eyebrows. “I already told you that I’d rather fuck you. Now listen, it’s not my fault you didn’t look at the screws and the Allen keys properly. Here, there’s twelve of that kind, and only six of those.”  
Mitchell was breathing heavily through his nose.  
“So look here...” Anders looked back and forth between the manual and the board Mitchell had been cursing at earlier. “Because you take this... and fit it into this... a bit like sex really... take something long and round, put it into the right hole and screw.” He looked up with a triumphant smile that quickly disintegrated upon noticing Mitchell’s facial expression.

“Mitch?”  
Mitchell slowly got up, his eyes never leaving Anders’s face.  
“John, I know that look. Shouldn’t we finish this first...?”  
With a growl, Mitchell grabbed Anders by the front of his shirt and dragged him onto his feet.  
“I really think...”  
“I am going to fuck your smart-ass brains out,” Mitchell said and dragged Anders towards the bedroom. “See how you like that.”

With a grin and a shake of his head, Anders cast the Allen key towards the heap of parts and wrappings.


End file.
